


Full Circle

by AndThenHeGotKnockedUp



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: (in the past), Angst with a Happy Ending, Disaster Malcolm, Discussion of Abortion, Dream Sex, Gil and Malcolm need to learn to TALK, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mpreg, Requited Love, Suicidal Thoughts, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:20:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22615486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndThenHeGotKnockedUp/pseuds/AndThenHeGotKnockedUp
Summary: Prompt: Gil and Malcolm have sex (and please do feel free to tell us all about that happened 💦) and Malcolm expects something more to happen after that, but instead they just sort of never even talk about it. A while later, Malcolm realizes that he's pregnant and doesn't know what to do. He's terrified of telling Gil, since he (wrongly) thinks that Gil thinks being together was a mistake. He's also terrified of being a parent, but part of him wants to keep the baby. He hides it as long as he can, but during a case (probably being as reckless as usual) Malcolm gets hurt and it ultimately causes his secret to be revealed!
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Comments: 28
Kudos: 147
Collections: Prodigal Son Kink Meme





	1. Chapter 1

“Oh god, _Gil_ —” Malcolm breathed out, arching his back and and pulling futilely at his restraints. The older man’s steady, purposeful thrusts were driving him insane. They were both too slow and too much, and each one scrambled whatever thought he might have started thinking, leaving him a writhing mess. It didn’t help that he couldn’t reach out and touch. He was at the mercy of his lover, and they both knew it. “ _Please_ —”

Gil chuckled, stroking Malcolm’s thigh with his thumb as he shifted to thrust even deeper. “You’ll have to speak up, kid.”

“Please,” Malcolm repeated. He gasped. “I’m close. Need you.”

“Good boy,” Gil said and moved a hand from thigh to cock. He grinned as his lover cried out and squirmed underneath him, as he seized up and came between them a few strokes later. Quickening his pace, Gil fucked him through his orgasm and chased his own until he followed suit.

They both took a breather then, riding the high of it all together before the two of them felt too disgusting not to move.

With a sigh, Gil pulled out. He unlocked the restraints first and then moved to clean up while Malcolm watched him from the bed, dazed. He came back from the bathroom with a damp washcloth to give his lover a quick wipe down, his face fond.

It was then that Malcolm realized something was wrong. “This never happened,” he said. “It can’t happen.”

Not Gil laid a warm hand on the curve of the younger man’s stomach, where their child was just beginning to show.

“I haven’t told you,” Malcolm whispered. “This isn’t real. You don’t even want me.”

_Us_ , his mind corrected, though he felt guilty thinking it. He knew the older man would support any kid of his in a heartbeat and the bearer along with it, but he couldn’t bring himself to trap him in a relationship. And that’s what it would be, because Gil didn’t want him. Didn’t even want to acknowledge that anything had happened between them. No, Malcolm knew it would be better if Gil never knew.

He woke up crying, cum cooling in his boxer briefs. He almost wished he’d woken up screaming.

\-----------

Neither of them planned to have sex, of course.

They’d just solved their newest case — a difficult, time consuming case that had them pulling all nighters and chugging shitty coffee — and the victory high from finally catching the bastard was particularly strong. Gil drove him home that night. For the first time in a long time, Malcolm was actually contemplating going to bed as soon as they got back to his apartment, but not, of course, before a celebratory drink. This case warranted cracking open the more expensive whiskey, and he knew Gil would have few objections.

He’d started shedding parts of his suit as soon as they were inside, all too aware that he hadn’t gotten a chance to change in two days, and before he knew it, the older man was pressing him onto his bed and helping him pull off the rest of his clothes. They hadn’t talked, except for Malcolm pointing out where the lube was.

It was quick. It was dirty. It scratched an itch they both had and relieved them of the tension of the case. Afterwards, they had that drink. Gil left.

They didn’t talk about it the next day. Or the next. Or the day after that. Then they had another case, another serial killer on their hands.

Eventually, Malcolm got the hint. Whatever that night was, it was a mistake that Gil didn’t intend to admit to, let alone repeat. So, he forced himself to ignore it, too.

\---------------

Button by button, he did up another expensive shirt, both grateful that the swell of his stomach was too small to be seen through both shirt and jacket and frustrated that all of his clothes were fitted. Soon enough, he wouldn’t be able to hide it.

If he was in a relationship, going through this journey with a partner, he’d just buy more as necessary and get them tailored to his new shape. Without a partner, however, there would be questions. Gil wasn’t a Lieutenant for no reason. He’d see right through him, and Malcolm didn’t get laid often enough to deter him from suspecting the truth. Then there would be two options — either get rid of their child, or let the older man do what he thought was right.

Neither of those options appealed to him.

He’d gotten a blood test done as soon as he suspected he was carrying, as soon as his stomach seemed to become even more sensitive than it already was. As expected, the results were positive. Unexpectedly, he hadn’t known what to do. Malcolm had always thought he would never have children. His mother may have wanted grandchildren, but Malcolm was _broken_ , and he refused to subject children to his issues. He was always careful with his partners and accepted that if the odds ever skewed out of his favor, he would book an appointment and that’s that. Now that he actually was pregnant — with Gil’s baby, no less — he found he was reluctant to follow through with it. He wanted their baby. He wanted to feel it growing inside of him, wanted to raise it and be a father.

Which is why he forced himself to drink a protein shake before he headed out the door. His morning sickness wasn’t terrible, but he found that the shakes went down better than solid food did sometimes.

No, the worst symptom so far was how horny he was. He knew it was hormones. Some people experienced a higher sex drive, especially in the first trimester. He just wished he wasn’t one of them. It seemed that more often than not he was having wet dreams instead of his usual nightmares, and Gil always featured in them, whether he was fucking him as roughly as he had during their one night or gently nudging him into orgasm. He always, without fail, woke up emotionally exhausted and aching. They made it even harder for him to go into the station and see the man all the time.

Not that he’d be able to do that for much longer anyway.

He took a deep breath, said goodbye to Sunshine, and left for the precinct.


	2. Chapter 2

Their newest case should have no problem keeping his attention, but nowadays part of him was always focused on the child growing within him. Baby Bright, he sometimes called them in his head, and it made him feel warm. At least they won’t grow up with the weight of the Whitly name. (Arroyo would be better, but that would require telling Gil, and he can’t, _won’t_.) He forced himself not to touch his stomach at the thought. It wasn’t uncommon for him to spend hours alone, one hand splayed across his small bump, taking it all in. Even if he logically knew the baby wasn’t yet developed enough to be aware, doing so grounded him in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Here at the precinct, he had to refrain.

“Something on your mind?” Dani perched on the desk in front of him.

“Family issues,” he said, giving her a wane smile. It wasn’t a lie. “The usual.”

She gave him a sympathetic look that managed not to be pitying and nodded. “Well, Edrisa’s ready with the newest vic if that helps.”

“Doesn’t it always?” He stood up and adjusted his suit jacket.

This case was interesting, and he knew he would have been all over it had he not had other things to worry about. Yesterday they’d found the third body. It, just as the two before it, was strung up in an abandoned building, though that wasn’t the cause of death. The first two died from blood loss, and it was likely that Edrisa would confirm that the third had as well. He knew it was why they were hung. The killer had known where and how to cut to make their deaths inevitable yet slow and painful, and they’d tied the victims up in elaborate ways so that they could watch. They wanted to see the whole process, wanted to see the blood and life drain from each person they caught.

Now Malcolm and the team were officially looking for a serial killer.

“Same cause of death,” Edrisa told them, unsurprisingly, “but — and this is intriguing — this man’s wounds are deeper.”

“He bled out more quickly,” Malcolm concluded. “Our killer isn’t being as careful.”

“Exactly!” She grinned at him. “These cuts aren’t as methodical as the previous ones. They took their time with the first two victims, but not with this one.”

“They’re getting excited.” He brought his hand up to his chin, thoughtful.

“Are we talking happy excited or worked up excited?” JT threw out.

“Worked up,” Malcolm answered. “The killer used to have all the time in the world to devote to their kills. They set up in abandoned places, places they’ve staked out. They chose them specifically for their privacy.”

“And now we’re on to them,” Gil said.

Malcolm glanced at him, careful not to look too long or look away too quickly. It was getting harder. This should probably be one of his last cases. Any longer with the NYPD would risk his secret, and in the meantime he had to act as normally as possible or the Lieutenant would notice. “Yes. We don’t have quite enough evidence to catch them yet, and they know that. However, they’re on our radar. It worries them.”

“Do you think it’s enough to make them sloppier?” Dani chimed in.

“It will. They already sped up their process, because they were concerned they would be interrupted, but it won’t have been nearly as satisfying.” He looked to Edrisa. “Was there a significant difference in how long it took this victim to bleed out?”

“Oh yes, very significant. I’d say hours less.”

He forced himself to look at Gil head on. “We’re going to have more bodies on our hands. Our killer is going to need another kill soon, and it will be over just as quick, if not quicker than this one.”

“And then they’ll need another.” The older man nodded, grim. “I’ll see if I can’t get more patrols going.”

\-------------

Gil was busy enough with organizing more patrols later that day that the younger man was able to slip out without talking to him. A large part of him wanted to stick around and throw himself into the case, but realistically, they didn’t have much to go on as of yet. Their killer was still too careful. None of the security cameras anywhere near the crime scenes caught them on tape, which Malcolm suspected was due to the careful way they chose their locations. All of the human DNA at the scenes came from the victims. The rope they used as well as the shape of the knife were both common as well. They needed something more to even compile a list of suspects, let alone arrest anyone, so he allowed himself to go back to his apartment and focus on himself.

Himself and his child.

The first thing he did was change into loose pants and a sweater. Then, grabbing a granola bar, he opened up his laptop and started doing his own research. He had maybe a month or so before he would have to move if he wanted to keep his secret, and although he knew nothing short of faking his death would stop his mother and sister from finding out at some point, he had to move far enough away that his relationship with Gil dwindled back down to the occasional phone call, just like when he’d been with the FBI. If he stuck too close, there was no guarantee the older man wouldn’t come visit. Maybe he could still consult with him from time to time over the phone. He was lucky that his mother had plenty of money to fly herself and Ainsley out to see him no matter where in the world he went. They wouldn’t tell Gil about the baby if he asked them not to. Still, he had a feeling he would have to wait to tell them, otherwise his mother might just smack the Lieutenant for getting him pregnant in the first place.

Malcolm took a bite of his granola bar and pulled up listings in the DC area. It wouldn’t be too odd for him to go back. He didn’t have to lie about missing his old apartment or the area itself, and if pressed, he could always mention needing to get away from Martin’s influence and his childhood home. Not that that would be a lie either. His mother would be disappointed that the next generation of Miltons (in name or not) wouldn’t be raised in that home, but she’d understand his reluctance. As for his father, Malcolm felt it was best not to visit him again. He still wanted to know the truth about so many parts of his childhood, and Martin was the only one who could give him those answers. Martin Whitly, however, was still a doctor. Even though obstetrics was far from his specialty, he was observant enough that Malcolm didn’t want to risk him realizing he was about to become a grandfather.

He closed his eyes and traced circles on his bump as he tried to dispel that unsettling thought.


	3. Chapter 3

The chirp of his cell phone startled him out of his thoughts. He half expected it to be his mother reminding him to _eat something, dear, please_ , but it wasn’t her.

It was Gil.

_Open up, Bright_ , the message said.

He stared at it.

Another message popped up — _I brought dinner_.

Standing up so quickly he felt dizzy, Malcolm grabbed his phone off of the table and moved to the door.

Gil was walking up the steps as he opened it. “Hey kid,” the older man said, holding up a nondescript bag as an offering.

The whole situation made him feel odd. He couldn’t help but wonder if Gil came over for another fuck. If so, he didn’t need to butter Malcolm up with food, and regardless, it wasn’t going to happen. Not now that he was starting to show. Even if his dick wanted him to accept and finally satisfy his hormonal cravings, he wouldn’t risk it.

“Did something happen?” he said. It was a good, neutral question.

Gil shook his head. “Can’t I come over for no reason?”

“You could,” he said slowly, “but you usually don’t.”

“It’s nothing bad,” the older man assured him. “Honest, Malcolm. I just wanted to talk. And eat some dinner.”

Doing his best to smile, Malcolm swung his arm out like an invitation. “Then mi casa es tu casa. Sorry to disappoint you, though, but I’ve already eaten.”

“Oh really,” Gil said, amused and disbelieving.

“It was only a granola bar, but _hey!_ That’s more than some nights!”

“Well I brought soup. I know your stomach can usually handle that.” The Lieutenant smiled at him, and his eyes crinkled as he did.

Speaking of it, Malcolm’s stomach flip flopped. Why couldn’t Gil not care at all? “Soup sounds good to me.” He busied himself with getting spoons for the two of them.

At the table, Gil pried the plastic lids off of two small tubs. The one he kept for himself smelled like clams, while the tub he placed in front of the seat next to him was clearly chicken noodle.

Malcolm had eaten quite a lot of chicken noodle soup at the Arroyo house growing up, as it was simple enough for his stomach to handle, and they’d always had some on hand for him. It brought a smile to his face now. Still, the warm feelings curdled soon enough. Clearly Gil hadn’t come over for sex if that was what he brought. Had he come over just to tell him they were better off platonic? Malcolm had gotten that hint weeks ago, when they’d stuck to conversations on the cases at the station, when Gil stopped offering to drive him home.

Handing one spoon over, he focused on eating his own soup. It was better for the baby, anyway, even if it was a relatively meagre amount of protein and vegetables. Silently, he promised them he would keep trying harder with food.

“So,” Gil prompted.

Malcolm glanced over at him. “So?”

“You’ve been distant lately, kid. Is the case not interesting enough for you?”

He set his spoon in the plastic tub and turned to face him. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind. It’s nothing for you to worry about.” And if Malcolm had his way, it would be nothing for him to worry about, ever.

“You sure? I’m right here if you need to talk.” Gil was, always had been, and sometimes Malcolm had confided in him.

He waffled back and forth on what he could say in response. The full truth was out of the question, of course, as was anything about the baby in general, but if he could set things up ahead of time… “I’m considering moving.”

It was clear that that was not what Gil was expecting. “Moving? Somewhere else in the city?”

“No, out of the state. I need a change of scenery, Gil. There’s too much history here.” Here, between the two of them.

“You need to leave the state to do that? I thought I’d have to chain you up to keep you away from the precinct.” He was joking, but there was discomfort in his eyes and the way he held himself. He was thrown.

Malcolm felt bad. “When the FBI fired me, I thought I would be okay coming back here and seeing everyone and everything again. I was wrong.” He hesitated. “If you ever need me on a case I’ll always be a phone call away.”

Next to him, Gil was conflicted. His face was creased in thought, the corners of his mouth turned down, and once or twice it looked as if he was going to say something before stopping himself.

“I’m sorry, Gil.” For choosing to leave suddenly. For pulling away. For not telling him about Baby Bright. Malcolm began eating again to keep his hands from trailing down to cradle his bump. He almost wished the older man would hurry up and leave so that he could curl up and just process all of this.

Gently, Gil laid a hand on the back of the younger man’s neck. “You have nothing to apologize for, Malcolm,” he said wearily. His thumb caressed his hairline for a brief moment before he pulled away and went back to his own soup.

They ate mostly in silence, and then Gil left.

“I’m sorry.” Malcolm slipped a hand underneath his sweater and tried to mimic the feeling of that hand on his neck. “I know he’d love you. I just wish he’d love me, too.”


	4. Chapter 4

It was almost a relief to wake up screaming the next morning. He’d thought for sure he’d dream of Gil after his visit, had even considered not sleeping at all to avoid it, but then he thought of the baby and reluctantly restrained himself.

Instead of dreaming of Gil fucking him — Gil _loving_ him — he’d dreamed of his father.

Malcolm spit out his mouth guard and took a deep breath. It wasn’t surprising that his dreams would turn to Martin finding out about Baby Bright. If anything, it was shocking that they hadn’t sooner. A part of him had worried about the possibility ever since he’d gotten his results back. Gil was the more immediate concern, but his father was still there, ever present in his thoughts. Martin would be absolutely _thrilled_ to know he was going to be a grandfather. Malcolm knew he would have suggestions on everything from diet to doctors to names, and then would undoubtedly share stories about raising him and Ainsley, all of which he wouldn’t mind if his father was a _normal_ father. He was well aware of Martin’s obsession with him. How could he not be with the sheer number of calls he received from Claremont every week? The second Martin got wind of this, his obsession would grow to include the baby.

Malcolm couldn’t let that happen.

The problem with that was that it prevented him from seeing his father at all, even if only for a case, and the case they were currently dealing with wasn’t unraveling as easy as he wished it would. Maybe he could arrange a phone call. Sighing, he pushed it out of his mind and got up to make himself breakfast.

Halfway through his eggs, he got a call from Dani.

“Don’t come into the precinct today, Bright, I’m on my way to get you.”

“There’s another body,” he concluded. This was much sooner than he expected. The first two kills had been two weeks apart, the third eleven days after the second. He thought they would have a week before the fourth kill, not three days.

“Gil asked me to pick you up and bring you along to the scene,” she responded, a vague confirmation. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

\------------------

Dani grimaced as they pulled up, pointing ahead when Malcolm gave her a questioning look.

Gil was arguing with a few officers and looked furious. JT didn’t look much calmer.

“Great,” she muttered.

They left the car and made their way over to the rest of the team.

“Powell, Bright, about time,” Gil snapped before sighing. “We have a problem.”

“There was a witness,” JT interrupted. “They were close by and heard something odd, but when they rushed in they must have spooked our killer. Then they tried to get the vic down even though she was already gone.”

“The scene is a mess,” Gil continued, “and the first officers on the scene let the witness go before we could interview them. By the time we sort through all of the evidence and determine what is from the witness and what could be from the killer, we’ll have another body on our hands, won’t we, Bright?”

Malcolm frowned. “It’s very likely. Our killer is escalating more quickly than I anticipated. Now that they’ve actually been interrupted, they’ll be frustrated and angry. They won’t have time to stake out another location unless they’re willing to wait before their next kill.”

Gil looked at him. “You think they could go back to one of the previous scenes?”

“Maybe. If they get impatient enough.”

Judging by the actual scene, they were. What was left of the way the killer hung their victim up was not up to the same level of the previous kills. The knots weren’t as neat or perfectly separated, and although some of that could be due to the witness tugging on them, it seemed that their killer wasn’t as tidy as they had been.

“These cuts are deeper,” Edrisa confirmed as well. “This one bled out very fast.”

“I’ll try to get ahold of the witness,” Dani offered.

Gil nodded. “We need to work fast if we want to prevent a fifth murder.”

\-------------------

On the way to the precinct, Dani took a minor detour to a bodega.

“I didn’t get a chance to eat,” she explained. “You want anything?”

“Believe it or not, I had eggs this morning.” Malcolm paused. “Wouldn’t say no to some trail mix, though.” He still wasn’t used to eating three full meals a day and probably never would be, but snacking was much easier. Most days he could manage two small meals and some snacks throughout the day. It was difficult but the least he could do for his baby.

“Trail mix? Okay.” She got out of the car, shaking her head lightly, and grabbed herself breakfast and him a bag of trail mix.

Once they were at the precinct, he opened the bag and started munching to her bemusement. “What?”

“Honestly, Bright?” She smirked. “I’m not sure I’ve seen you eat anything other than candy before.”

He popped an almond in his mouth. “What can I say? I have a sweet tooth.”

Malcolm settled at a desk shortly after and began to take a closer look at the locations. If they could find some sort of pattern to them, they could use it to predict where the next murder would be. Or at the very least, they might be able to guess which of them the killer would go to again. He wasn’t sure how long he was at it, but by the time he’d absentmindedly finished his trail mix, he had a decent idea of which location might be reused.

“We’ve got a murder weapon,” Gil announced. “It was trashed in a dumpster down the block. It’s being checked for prints as we speak.”

“And I’ve gotten in touch with our witness. They’re on their way in,” Dani said.


	5. Chapter 5

Malcolm passed on sitting in with the witness. Not only did he trust that the team would get what all they could from them, but also the murder weapon was far more interesting to him. Why had the killer bothered stashing it when they’d always been so careful before? As far as Edrisa could tell, all of the murders to date were committed with the same kind of blade if not the same exact one, which meant that the killer had potentially trashed one of their key tools. Or were they planning on coming back for it?

He took a taxi back to the scene. According to Gil, the dumpster where the knife — a plain, singled edged blade — was found was just down the block. He smoothed his coat down and began the short walk, trying to visualize what path the killer might have taken. The dumpster itself was no longer there, having been hauled away to check for prints, hair, anything that could be used to put together a list of suspects. Still, he looked at the area around the gap. Bending down to look at a stain on the asphalt, he neglected to notice someone else coming up behind him.

Malcolm collapsed forward, one arm cushioning his bump.

\---------------

The witness couldn’t tell them terribly much more than what he’d told the first officer to interview him, but what he did offer was a noise. To be specific, it was a scuffle he thought he’d heard outside while he was desperately trying to pull the victim down. He didn’t think to mention it earlier that day. It was shaky at best, but it supported their conclusion that the killer was interrupted and forced to run.

Staring down at that dead end, Gil phoned Malcolm in the hopes that he managed to glean something from his own efforts. It rang.

And rang. And rang.

He hung up as soon as voicemail picked up and immediately shrugged on his jacket. “Let me know if Bright comes back.”

His first stop was the crime scene. He hoped Malcolm had just gotten distracted or turned off his ringer after one too many calls from Claremont or Jessica. But there was no sign of him there.

He tried calling again. No answer.

Next he tried the loft. He knocked and waited on and off for a solid few minutes, the grim feeling in his chest growing with each bout of silence.

He called a third time. No answer. He called Dani instead. “I need either you or JT to stay at the precinct and keep an eye out from Bright. The other needs to meet me at the first crime scene. _Now_.”

It was time to see if Malcolm was right about their killer retracing his steps.

\------------

He came to as he was being hoisted into the air. Rope restrained him in such a way that supported his upper body without putting too much stress on any one part of him, a harness of knots. His arms were loosely hung from the ceiling. The sound of rope sliding against metal filled his ears as one after the other his arms were pulled taut. All in all, he was high enough off the ground that his feet dangled uselessly, but low enough that he himself was in reach. He noted absently that his stomach was not restrained as tightly as his chest.

Malcolm blinked a few times to adjust his vision.

There was a man in front of him. He was unraveling another length of rope, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his prey was awake.

“This is where your second murder took place, isn’t it?” Malcolm looked around. “I had a feeling you’d be coming back here at some point.”

The man began restraining his legs.

Malcolm would have kicked him, had his limbs not felt weak yet. “You had a good time here. It’s less isolated, but I bet the acoustics are great.” His hand twitched against the ropes as his heart raced. His stomach didn’t feel bruised, which was good. He’d clearly been captured by their current case, however, which wasn’t good. His body desperately wanted to curl up around his bump, to keep it safe.

He knew better than to show it.

“You weren’t planning on taking me,” he tried. “If you had, you would have watched me first, right? You like to take your time with your kills.”

“I did,” the man finally said, working on a knot.

“A short death isn’t satisfying. You need to drag it out.” _Please drag it out_ , Malcolm thought. His throat felt tight, his chest crushed. He hoped someone had noticed he'd been gone for a while. As soon as they realized something was wrong, they’d know to look. “You need to watch the life drain out of them.”

There were times in his life when Malcolm wouldn’t have minded this. Times when he’d hated himself so much that he wanted to die, times when he wouldn’t have protested at all. Now, he needed, wanted to live. He wanted to live and raise his baby, even if he couldn’t have Gil with him. His mind raced.

“You want to go back to that first kill,” he continued. “You want to feel like you have all the time in the world to bleed someone dry.”

The man grit his teeth but didn’t respond.

“Killing me will only make it harder to achieve. You killed this morning, and I’m affiliated with the NYPD. They don’t take well to their own being murdered.” And he knew, for all of their awkwardness the past few months, that Gil still did consider him part of the team. He would push even if the rest of the precinct didn’t care. (Privately, he knew the rest of the team would, too.) When the autopsy results came back, they would all know that their killer killed Gil’s child, too, and that would only make things worse for the man in front of him.

Malcolm didn’t want Gil to find out that way. He’d rather have the older man hate him for not involving him in their child’s life than that.


	6. Chapter 6

Gil wanted to storm into the abandoned building by himself, but logic held him back until JT arrived. He couldn’t be emotional about this. Not even with one of his team — with _Malcolm_ — on the line. With how worked up their killer was, rushing in could startle him into killing the younger man.

Once JT finally joined him, they carefully made their way into the building, looking for signs of anyone or anything as they did.

It was a bust. If Gil had to guess, he’d say nothing had been disturbed since they removed the body. Without a word, he turned back and got into his car, giving JT a few moments to join him before driving off.

They would visit the second crime scene next.

“Dani’s looking through his notes,” JT said quietly. “If there’s anything helpful there, she’ll call. My phone’s on vibrate.”

“Good.”

\-------------

“Is that your new knife?” Malcolm watched as the man pulled a simple blade out of his bag. It was similar to the one they’d found in the dumpster. His hands were trembling against his bonds, but he worked hard to curb it to less noticeable levels. “We found your other one, as I’m sure you noticed.”

“I was coming back for it,” the man said idly. “It was a regrettable loss.”

“You lost it, because you’re slipping.”

“I caught you, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” Malcolm admitted. He pushed through the panic rising in his throat. “But my team knows where I went. They’ll be here soon.” It was a gamble. Either the threat would stall him or make the man want to kill him faster. He hoped it was the former.

“Then I’ll have to make this one quick,” the man said. He sharpened his knife and took a moment to look at it. “I think you’ll be perfect for my new beginning.”

“Have you always been this cliche?”

Instead of answering, the man gripped Malcolm by the shoes and stabbed quickly into his calf, the blade cutting through his suit pants and sinking right into the flesh. It was perhaps two inches deep.

Malcolm _howled_.

\-------------

Gil practically jumped out of the car. There was no visible evidence outside of the building, but unless the killer already had another place staked out, there was only one other place to check if this one was a bust.

He clenched his jaw. Malcolm _needed_ to make it out of this alive. Things between them had been weird for months, and while he knew exactly what caused it, he couldn’t figure out how to fix it. If only he’d taken the time to think before acting that night. He’d held all of his attraction for the younger man back since the very moment he’d seen him in the city again, and he should have held it back indefinitely.

But watching him strip across his apartment, lean and handsome, like he was flirting with every step, combined with the enthusiastic way he yielded when Gil pressed him into the bed —

“I’m ready when you are,” JT told him.

Gil nodded. He couldn’t dwell on it now. Not until Malcolm was safe.

\------------------

“I wish I had more time with you,” the man said, swiping a finger across the cut and inspecting the blood.

Malcolm focused on breathing.

The man sighed. “Unfortunately—”

A second stab, mirroring the first on the other calf, ripped a scream out of the profiler.

“— I need to make this quick.”

Bile rose in Malcolm’s throat, and he cursed the fact that he ate breakfast that morning as he nearly choked on it in his rush to breathe.

“You see,” the man said lightly, “those won’t bleed enough. An artery, on the other hand, will kill you in around thirty minutes. More if I go for your femoral, with the way your legs are bound.”

Malcolm tried to build up some sort of momentum, but he didn’t have the leverage to do so quickly enough, and his legs were caught before he could really begin.

“If you move too much, I might cut right through it. Unless you _want_ to die much quicker?”

He forced himself to still, reminded himself that any extra time he could give himself was more time he and his child could hold out for rescue. Tears blurred his vision.

The knife slowly parted the flesh of his thigh. “That should be deep enough.” The man eased it out just as leisurely.

Squeezing his thighs together, Malcolm prayed someone would make it in time.

\---------------

The second they entered the building, they saw them. Their killer was cleaning a blade, eyes glued to the other figure in the room. Malcolm was strung up. He had his eyes screwed shut, his pants were growing dark and damp, and Gil was only just barely aware of JT retreating, likely to call in an ambulance.

He silently promised himself that, if Malcolm survived this (and he would; Gil wouldn’t accept any less), he would apologize and give the younger man whatever space he needed. He couldn’t regret that night, but he regretted what it did to them.

Moving quietly, Gil aimed.

\--------------

Malcolm startled at the gunshot, briefly relaxing his legs at the noise.

It was Gil.

He giggled involuntarily. “Gil, he pierced an artery.”

“How long ago?” The Lieutenant kicked the knife away from the man on the floor and cuffed him roughly.

JT, moving back into the building, took over watching the man.

“Less than ten minutes I think,” Malcolm said. “I’m losing a _lot_ of blood, Gil.”

“We need to get him down,” JT urged, knocking the Lieutenant into action.

Together, with the help of Gil’s pocket knife, they figured out the ropes and eased the profiler down, though they didn’t take the time to remove all of them.

The older man immediately applied pressure to his thigh wound. “You’ll be okay, kid.”

“I want to live, Gil,” Malcolm blurted out.

“That’s good to hear,” he said tightly. “Stay with me, Bright.”

When the paramedics pulled up, they pushed him aside to get to the younger man, whom they ushered into the ambulance as soon as possible, not stopping to allow anyone else to ride along. Another set came in for the killer. JT joined them to keep watch.

The Lieutenant stood there as they left, feeling hollow.


	7. Chapter 7

“Gil,” Dani said slowly, “you here with me?”

He looked up at her for the first time since she arrived and nearly rubbed a hand across his face, his arm jerking back down as he remembered that both palms were tacky with blood. _Malcolm’s_ blood.

“Where are your keys?”

“Jacket pocket,” he told her and pushed away from the driver’s side of the car so that she could get in. He only vaguely recalled calling her to come get him, knowing that he wasn’t in the shape to drive. His phone was smeared red.

She herded him into the passenger seat. Her face was creased with worry, but she got him settled and hopped in the driver’s side without a word.

He was relieved to realize she was heading directly for the hospital.

\------------------

Dani was saving him a seat in the waiting room, but she’d rightfully insisted he go wash up in the bathroom, both for himself and so that he didn’t scare anyone else in the hospital. It took two rounds of scrubbing vigorously to get rid of the blood. Even then, it was still under his nails.

He wanted to scream.

By the time they’d gotten to the hospital, Malcolm had already been rushed into surgery to close up the cut in his artery. They also needed to deal with the wounds on his calves as well as the blood loss in general. It would be some time yet.

 _God_ , he needed to call Jessica. She’d be furious if she wasn’t notified right away. It’d be bad enough once she found out that he’d neglected to tell her Malcolm was missing in the first place. Leaving the bathroom, he let Dani know he’d be right outside and walked out. He fished his phone out of his pocket. It was still streaked red. He took a deep breath and opened the contacts anyway, hitting Jessica’s name and putting it up to his ear.

She didn’t bother with a greeting. “Is something wrong?” were her first words.

“Malcolm’s in the hospital.” He’d spare her the details for now. Later, she’d demand them, but he thought it best not to unload too much on her before she made her way down to join them. Hopefully by then, Malcolm’s condition would be much less serious. “He’s in surgery right now.”

“I’ll be there soon.” The line cut off.

Dani wasn’t alone when he went back inside. JT had taken his seat, and the two of them were talking quietly. He noticed Gil first. “I called in some officers to take over for me until that twisted fuck’s healed enough to be discharged.”

In other words, he was worried about Malcolm, too. Gil smiled weakly. He was pleased that his team was taking to the younger man more and more.

“Anyone else want coffee?” Dani offered, standing up.

\----------------

Malcolm felt groggy and sore, but most importantly, alive. He forced his eyes open and then quickly snapped them shut, tears welling up as he realized that he could hear his baby’s heartbeat. That answered his biggest question.

“Are you okay, Mr. Bright?”

He opened his eyes. There was a doctor there, looking concerned. “My baby —”

“Is fine,” she reassured him. “We’re continuing to monitor them just in case.”

Shifting, he rested a trembling hand on his bump next to the fetal heart rate monitor. “My femoral artery was pierced.”

“Yes. While you were out, we performed surgery to close it up. We’ve also stitched up your calf wounds and begun a blood transfusion.” She indicated the bag of blood he was hooked up to. “If you’re up to it, you have a group of worried visitors out in the waiting room.”

He swallowed thickly. There was no way he could keep everyone out indefinitely, and he wouldn’t ask them to turn off Baby Bright’s monitor, not while he felt so battered. And honestly, he wasn’t sure he could keep his baby a secret any longer. He remembered the terror he’d felt at the thought of Gil finding out from his autopsy.

“Could you please ask Gil Arroyo to come back? Just him for now.” Malcolm owed it to him to tell him alone, at the very least.

\-----------------

All of them could see the argument building up within Jessica as the doctor told them Malcolm wanted to see Gil and _only_ Gil, but Dani was the one to lay a hand on her arm and quietly inform her of the blood he’d carried. It didn’t erase the stubborn look on her face, merely softened it.

Gil gave Dani a grateful look before briskly following the doctor.

The room looked like a standard hospital room, though he was sure Jessica would have that changed soon enough. Malcolm was limp in the bed, eyes closed and one hand thrown over his stomach, the other hand connected to a bag of blood by IV. There was a quick, steady sound coming from one of the machines attached to him.

“Hey kid.” Gil dragged one of the chairs from the far wall closer to the bed and dropped into it.

Opening his eyes, Malcolm gave him a pensive look. “Gil, I… we have to talk.”

Although hadn’t understood why the younger man had been insistent on only seeing him, he hadn’t expected this discussion to come up now. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I know I fucked up, kid — Malcolm.”

“ _What?_ ”

Gil couldn’t look him in the eye. “I should have talked to you first. I wasn’t thinking about how it would affect our relationship. I never thought you’d consider leaving the state to get away. If you need space —”

\---------------

“Gil, _stop_ ,” Malcolm pleaded. His mind was racing. “If I need space? Why would I need space?” If anyone needed space, it was Gil. He was the one who pulled away.

“You’ve been awkward around me for months,” the older man said. “It was obvious you didn’t want to talk about that night, and now you want to move all of a sudden? _God_ , kid, last time I was over at your place, I was convinced you were going to kick me out.”

Malcolm forced himself to calm down. The last thing he wanted was to bring the doctor back in by getting worked up. “I was waiting for you to bring it up.” He hugged his bump tighter. “I thought you regretted it.”

\---------------

Finally looking at Malcolm, Gil took a moment to really see him. The younger man’s expression was devastated, he’d curled into himself a little, and there was a wet sheen to his eyes. “I’ve been lusting after you for months like a dirty old man,” he admitted. “The only thing I regret was that it made you pull away.”

Malcolm bit his lip. “I need to tell you something.”

\---------------

It was cruel, finding out that he was wrong about Gil. He wanted to feel optimistic about it, but he had the sinking feeling that the older man would still be mad about his secret. Still, he had to tell him.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Gil, I’m pregnant.”

The Lieutenant’s eyes snapped down to his stomach and then over to their baby’s heart rate monitor.

“I thought you didn’t want me,” he continued hollowly. “I didn’t want you to feel… obligated.”

“ _Malcolm_ …” Gil made a quiet wounded sound. Pulling the chair closer, he reached over and laced his fingers with Malcolm’s, resting over their baby. They weren't done discussing this by any means, but for now, they sat as a family.


	8. Chapter 8

They took it easy while he was in the hospital. Gil was there every day to see him, to reassure him he wanted to be there and would even if there wasn’t a baby involved. Malcolm, for his part, told the older man everything about his pregnancy to date — with the exception of the wet dreams, which he refused to talk about in the hospital, though he knew Gil would find out about them eventually. He knew he wouldn’t be spending the rest of his pregnancy alone in his loft. He was content with that.

Telling the team and his family was another story. Dani and JT, being detectives, weren’t stupid and had long since noticed something was up between the two of them. Not that they knew for sure, but Dani admitted that she had a feeling he was pregnant. She’d never seen him eat anything substantial prior to the last few months. Jessica was torn between being ecstatic that she was _finally_ going to become a grandmother and homicidal when she realized just who the father was. Even after Gil took her aside and promised that he’d never approached Malcolm before the night he conceived, that he’d been so in love with Jackie that it never even crossed his mind until the younger man was years past being legal, she still glared at him whenever she came to visit. Ainsley was scandalized, too, but she warmed up to it as soon as she realized she could make Daddy jokes at Malcolm’s expense. (He was perpetually exasperated. He still loved her.)

When it was time for Malcolm to go home, Gil insisted on pushing the wheelchair out to the front, where Adolpho was waiting for both of them. It was unspoken between them that he would be staying at the loft for a few days at least. He helped his lover climb into the back of the car and slid in beside him, linking hands.

“I want us to move in together,” Gil finally said as they settled into the loft. “I’m open to where, but I think we should try this.”

Malcolm opened Sunshine’s cage and smiled as she hopped onto his hand. “I agree. I think it would be best for Baby Arroyo, and… Gil, I want this.”

There was no response.

Turning around, the younger man caught sight of his lover’s stunned face just before it shifted to something more neutral.

“Baby Arroyo?” Gil said softly.

“If that’s alright.” Malcolm suddenly felt untethered. He’d forgotten in those few blissful days in the hospital that they really hadn’t talked about anything major. His free hand shifted to his bump, to Baby Arroyo. “I like it better than Baby Bright.”

Gil moved forward until he was right in front of him. “I like it, too.” He smiled, a genuine one with crinkled eyes, and placed a hand on top of Malcolm’s. Then, giving the younger man plenty of time to say something, he leaned down and kissed him slowly, sweetly.

They only broke apart when Sunshine chirped and flew up to land on her owner’s shoulder.

\-----------------

Gil called for takeout that night and insisted on paying for it. “You pay next time,” he said after Malcolm offered. It wasn’t the healthiest thing to get, of course, but both of them were still emotionally exhausted. They ate sitting next to each other, a mirror of the last time Gil visited the loft. This time, however, the silence was comfortable.

The older man was cleaning up the dishes when Malcolm built up the courage to discuss sleeping arrangements. “About tonight — my dreams have been… interesting lately.”

“Are the nightmares getting worse?”

“Not exactly.” He fidgeted in his seat. “To be blunt, I’ve been horny, Gil.”

“Ah, those kinds of dreams,” Gil said, drying off his hands and turning around. “It’s natural, I promise.”

That got Malcolm’s attention. He tilted his head and grinned. “Have you been reading pregnancy books?”

“Maybe. I’m in this for the long haul, kid. I’m not going to run because of a few wet dreams.”

“I’m glad. I… I never wanted to do this without you,” Malcolm admitted.

“I believe you.” The older man smiled fondly. “Just talk to me next time, okay?”

“Only if you promise the same.”

“Deal.”

It would be their first full night together. Gil hadn’t stayed long after their first time, and truthfully, Malcolm hadn’t spent the night with anyone since Eve. But his lover knew his issues. He knew that the restraints were necessary, knew that the mouth guard prevented him from not only screaming aloud but also from grinding his teeth in his terror. He was expecting that Malcolm would need those things and didn’t judge him for it.

When it became late enough, Gil herded him over to the bed and gently but firmly restrained him. He climbed in afterwards, in nothing but his boxers, and simply adjusted himself around the younger man, laying down a little lower on the bed so that Malcolm’s arm could comfortably fit around him and throwing an arm of his own across their child.

It was oddly easy for Malcolm to fall asleep.

\----------------

That night not Gil was making love to him slowly, delighting in making Malcolm go crazy with the drag of his cock and the rasp of his beard against his neck. His mouth was just as busy. In between bites and kisses, he talked about how tight his lover was, how hot it was that he was carrying their child.

Malcolm knew it wasn’t real. This time, however, he enjoyed it, if a little guiltily, because although they hadn’t talked about sex yet, he knew they would get there eventually. He was pulled out of it before it could end.

Next to him the real Gil was attempting to sneak out of bed with an erection. He sighed when he realized he was caught. “Sorry.”

It was risky, but Malcolm spit out his mouth guard and looked him right in the eyes. “Please?”

Gil hesitated. “You sure?”

“ _God, yes._ ”

“Then tell me,” the older man said slowly, “how was I fucking you in this dream of yours?”

“It wasn’t fucking,” Malcolm admitted and explained.

Gil kissed him as he undid the restraints. “I think we can do that.” He pulled the lube out and handed it to him. “But I think I want to watch you prepare yourself.” The first and last time they’d fucked, he’d stretched his lover as quickly as possible.

Lifting his hips, the younger man shucked his briefs and lubed up his fingers. He was aware that Gil was watching, and so he was determined to take his time instead of doing the bare minimum as he often had after one of his dreams. The first finger slipped in easily. His eyes slid shut for a second, but he wanted to see Gil.

The other man met his gaze.

He slipped a second finger in, huffing at the slight stretch. Instead of thrusting, his hips rocked onto them and drew his lover’s attention back down.

“Add another,” Gil said roughly.

He did, moaning. At some point, his eyes closed again and stayed closed —

Until a hand grasped his wrist and eased his fingers back out. Gil stared at him as he did.

With a smirk, Malcolm twisted his hand in the grip and reached for the man’s cock, lubing him up with the leftover slick.

“If you want to play out your dream, you need to get on your side now,” Gil warned him.

He shifted. A warm body molded to his back, dick sliding against his ass. With minor adjusting, his lover slid into him. They both moaned at the stretch.

“I’m not going to last long, kid.” The older man’s beard rasped against his neck, giving him shivers. “You’re too fucking tight.” He began thrusting ever so slowly.

With how worked up he already was from the dream, from being watched, he was skating the edge just a few thrusts in. “Gil, _please_ …”

“I don’t think you understand.” His hips jerked hard, wringing gasps from both of them. “Just how _goddamn_ attractive you are, knocked up and begging —”

Malcolm reached back blindly and threaded his fingers through Gil’s hair as his orgasm ripped through him with a wail.

Behind him, his lover gripped his hip harder and stilled, unloading into him with a groan. He gently pulled out as soon as both of them could breathe again. “You okay?”

“Better than,” Malcolm said with a laugh. “I’ve needed that for months.”

Gil rolled him over for a kiss, stroking his bump with a free hand. “Me, too, kid.”

It wasn’t perfect. They still needed to talk and get a better idea of where they stood, but in the moment, they were happy.


End file.
